


tumblr prompts

by seaworn



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Otabek loves his boyfriends, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Smut, Social Media, Tumblr Prompt, my whole world revolves around Otabek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 06:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13207593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaworn/pseuds/seaworn
Summary: Here I have collected a couple of prompts I've written for tumblr. See chapter one for the contents!





	1. index

**Author's Note:**

> I like having all of my writing in one place so I decided to collect the prompts/ficlets I've written for tumblr here! I didn't feel like any of these ficlets were enough to be their own fic, that's why they're here. Come say hi to me either at my main [dotingdamen](http://dotingdamen.tumblr.com) or my Otabek-centered sideblog, [otabottom](http://otabottom.tumblr.com)!

**Chapter 2**

Prompt:  “I’m just glad you’re safe. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you.”

Chris Giacometti/Otabek Altin

 

**Chapter 3**

Prompt: “Can I at least take my shoes off before you pounce on me?”

Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky 

 

**Chapter 4**

Prompt: “She’s/he’s not my boyfriend!”

Jean-Jacques Leroy/Otabek Altin 

 

**Chapter 5**

Prompt: "Hey, babe"

Chris Giacometti/Otabek Altin 

 


	2. fluff - Chris/Otabek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy Chris/Otabek ficlet for the prompt: “I’m just glad you’re safe. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you."

“Finally,” Otabek sighs as they’re out of the doors. He fiddles with the papers he got from the hospital - prescriptions for drugs, his check-up appointment written down for him. Chris promptly snags the papers from his hands, being far too aggressive than necessary in Otabek’s opinion.

“Finally?  _Finally_?” Chris huffs and goes through the papers. Otabek lets him - they’re in French, anyway, and he’s not very fluent in it. Chris is not looking at Otabek but that doesn’t stop him from ranting, apparently. “I’m sorry,  _mon amour_ , was this little detour to the hospital an  _inconvenience_  to you?”

Otabek rolls his eyes. He gets that Chris had a scare and he’d had to translate Otabek to the doctors for hours and that he had to rush to the hospital in the middle of the night, and all that had been  _really decent of him_ , but Otabek was tired and achy and wasn’t in the mood for a talk like this.

“It was, actually,” he huffs and hears Chris mutter profanities in French under his breath, as if Otabek didn’t understand  _that_  much of the language. “It wasn’t my plan to tumble over like that with my bike.”

“That wasn’t a tumble,” Chris says. He’s walking way too fast for Otabek’s taste. His side still feels scorching hot and sensitive to touch, the pain in his left arm reaching from his (broken) pinkie to his elbow. “That was a monumental fuck-up and you could at least admit it!”

They’re walking home - Chris’ home, that is. It must be around 5AM - the streets are cleared from people spending their weekends in pubs and clubs but it’s still dark. Luckily he didn’t have to stay at the hospital any longer or spend the night. Five hours in the ER had been enough, thank you very much.

Otabek glances at Chris. The man looks a mess, to be honest. Chris tends to have a very unruly hair if he doesn’t put any product in it, and from what Otabek gathered, Chris woke up when the nurses called him from the hospital and came there straight away. His blond curls bounce with every angry step he takes. He’s wearing a huge wool coat that covers his whole frame and his thick-rimmed glasses he always does when he’s too tired to wear contacts. His face is pale aside from his blotchy, red cheeks.

“I  _am_  sorry,” Otabek says, because it’s true - it mustn’t have been fun for Chris to stay next to him at the hospital as they x-rayed his arm and cleaned his side and rear from burn marks caused by asphalt, sitting next to him for hours.

“Whatever. We must go to a pharmacist, yes? To get you painkillers. Then home, you have to get some sleep - “

Otabek stops walking. Chris stops a few second later, comically almost continuing walking down the street without Otabek, babbling on.

“What?” Chris asks him, and the exasperation in his voice is crystal clear. Otabek has to take a moment to breathe before speaking. It’s not every day that he sees Chris lose his temper. The man is always so sunny and patient, bubbling positive energy. Otabek doesn’t remember whether Chris has ever been cross with him before.

“Everything is okay, Chris,” he says because he want to reassure the man in some way. Chris blinks behind the ridiculous, infuriatingly  _nice_  glasses and looks away, frown deepening on his face.

“ _Un garçon imbécile_ ,” Chris mumbles and flips his hair from his face.

It’s snowing, but barely. For once it’s not windy in Geneva so the scarce snowflakes can fall down slowly.  Chris’ hair and his shoulders are covered by it. Otabek swears he even sees one snowflake kiss the tip of his nose before melting.

“I know, but what else is new?” Otabek quips.

Chris shakes his head and takes his time folding Otabek’s discharge papers into his pocket. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Accidents happen, Chris. I just broke my wrist and got some bruises, nothing more.”

Chris’ eyes are flaming when he lifts up his gaze to Otabek. The red around his eyes makes the green of his irises pop out beautifully.

“You were run over by a  _car_ , Otabek!” Chris argues, voice wavering. “Do you have any idea what it was like to get a call in the middle of the night, a call that starts with  _‘you were listed as Mr. Otabek Altin’s emergency contact’_ , huh? For a second I thought you were - that you - that -”

“But I’m not!” Otabek hastens to say when he sees Chris struggling to finish that sentence.

The Swiss looks upset and hurt. “You could have been!”

Otabek is getting a headache and despite the fact that Chris looks beautiful standing in the snow in front of him, he’s getting cold and really just wants to get some painkillers in him and ten hours of undisturbed sleep.

“I worry about you too, you know!” He says before he can stop himself.

Staying over at Chris’ in Geneva has been  _amazing_  and there’s no place Otabek would rather be. The place is beautiful and Chris is a good tour guide, taking him to all the best restaurants and coolest bars. Otabek came here with his bike after accepting Chris’ invite to stay over at his place while he’s roadtripping around Europe. They’ve known each other for years, but they’ve never been around each other this long.

The only downside from living with Chris is that, well, Otabek has managed to develop a small crush on Chris. He’s tried not to make it a big deal in his head - who  _doesn’t_  have a crush on Chris, honestly? The man is flirtatious by default, making cashiers in stores and librarians and policemen blush and stumble over their words when Chris smiles at them. Otabek doesn’t think he could have ever prevented himself from falling for the Swiss skater. He’s got to see Chris when he walks to the kitchen in the morning, sleepy and hair like a soft cloud, and he’s seen Chris in the small hours of the night, leaning forward with a secretive smirk to whisper something into some insignificant man’s ear. Everything Chris does is appealing to Otabek.

That makes it hard when they go out together, because Chris gets  _a lot_  of offers from both women and men. And more often than not, he takes up on those offers. Usually from dark-haired pricks with bad taste in clothes but good taste in men.

“Me going home with some stranger isn’t the same as you getting hit by a car and falling over with your motorbike, Otabek!” Chris snaps, instantly knowing what Otabek meant because it’s not the first time Otabek has voiced his concerns over Chris’ reckless love life.

“It sort of is”, Otabek says,  “I don’t know where you’re going and who you’re going with and what they’re going to do to you!”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll stop dating strangers and, what, date you instead?”

“That would be preferable!” Otabek snaps back.

He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. He’s not sure how something like that got out of his mouth. It must be the drugs they gave him at the hospital. 

 Chris looks taken aback, too, before he huffs a small breath that makes the curls on his forehead sway. He takes a step forward and touches Otabek’s fingertips with his own. They’re surprisingly warm against Otabek’s cold ones. 

“I’m glad you’re safe”, Chris confesses with a small voice, eyes round. “I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you.”

“The feeling - it’s mutual,” Otabek says. “I worry about you, but I don’t want to dictate your love life, by the way. I’m sorry if it came out like that.” 

Chris steps closer, and Otabek marvels over their height-difference. He has to look up a little to look at the man properly.

“But,” Chris starts, looking down at Otabek, voice dropping lower. “You’d like to be  _a part_  of my love life?”

The pain from his broken wrist and the burn marks currently decorating his left buttock fade to the backround as Otabek’s voice hitches at Chris’ words.

The truth falls from his lips before he can even think about playing it cool. 

“ _Oui,_  Chris.” 

Chris kisses him.


	3. smut - Otabek/Yuri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: "Can I at least take my shoes off before you pounce on me?" 
> 
> This chapter is rated NC-17.

Yuri doesn’t care how desperate he seems. But the  _second_ they’re inside Otabek’s apartment he kisses the boy.  _Hard_. Yuri kicks the door closed behind him and then kicks his luggage further away from them when he threatens to stumble on it. Otabek huffs a surprised laugh against Yuri but doesn’t do anything to deny Yuri his passionate _‘i’m so happy i’m finally here’_  kiss.

Otabek slides his fingers into Yuri’s hair and good  _god_ , it’s been so long since Yuri’s felt that, and he lets out a shivery moan as the familiarity in Otabek’s actions makes Yuri dizzy with lust.

Yuri has missed Otabek  _so much_. When they left each other after spending the summer in Almaty, listening to EDM from Otabek’s stereos until 4AM, chasing sunsets on his motorcycle, slowly going from friends to  _boy_ friends, Yuri thought he could handle long-distance. He’s never gotten homesick in his life despite travelling around to world to compete, has never felt that ache when you miss someone so much it hurt. So he thought that a few months without Otabek would be fine.

It wasn’t fine. Yuri wasn’t prepared for how much he actually craved physical touch, and how often he found himself fantasizing about going to sleep in Otabek’s arms. How phone calls and Skyping and Snapchat pictures didn’t do anything to relieve Yuri’s longing and actually just made it  _worse_.

“Missed you,” Yuri mumbles against Otabek’s lips and crowds him against a wall. Otabek’s body is warm and solid against him, and Yuri feels his whole body responding to it. There are butterflies in his stomach, he is dizzy and his toes are curling in his shoes at the excitement of what is going to happen.

Otabek’s tongue slips past Yuri’s lips and touches Yuri’s own before retreating. Yuri has to fight the impulse to bite that tongue to prevent it from leaving.

“Can I at least take me shoes off before you pounce on me?” The boy laughs, but it’s not very convincing since Yuri can feel his cock hardening against Yuri’s. Yuri kisses his neck and wiggles his hips to prove a point.

“No.”

Otabek’s hands find Yuri’s ass and his fingers slip into the back pockets. Otabek tends to do that in public, too, and Yuri  _loves_  it. He’s the only person in the world whose pockets Otabek Altin shoves his hands into. This is all still so new that sometimes Yuri has hard time believing that they’re actually dating.

Yuri pushes his ass against Otabek’s hands with a soft sigh and waits for the moment when Otabek finally grabs his buttocks, because he  _always_  does that. He barely has to wait before Otabek does that and pulls Yuri closer to him, fingertips digging into his flesh.

“If I can’t take my shoes off, I can’t take my jeans off either, and by the looks of where you’re going at, it’s what needs to be done,” Otabek manages to smirk against Yuri’s lip. Right then Yuri  _does_  bite Otabek, taking his lower lip between his teeth and tugging. He runs his hands down Otabek’s chest, slipping his fingers under the hem of Otabek’s horrifyingly unfitting sweater.

“I don’t need you to take your jeans off for this,” Yuri whispers and opens the belt of said pants. He fumbles a little as he gets distracted by Otabek’s heaving, smooth stomach under his fingertips, the trail of coarse hair from his navel to his cock.

“No?” Otabek asks, and  now his voice has that low, husky tone that Yuri loves. It’s hot to hear it while they’re talking on the phone, the change in his voice as it drops a little lower, his consonants softer like he has trouble forming sentences.  _Especially_  when he’s speaking Russian. Otabek is pretty much fluent in it but since it’s not his first language, it’s got that weird, foreign lilt Yuri absolutely adores.

“No,” Yuri agrees and lowers Otabek’s zip. He’s in a rush to get his hands inside Otabek’s pants and gets frustrated when he can’t, not with Otabek’s stupidly tight jeans and stupidly tight boxers.

Unceremoniously he pulls both of the garments down to Otabek’s thighs.

“That’s better,” he says and resumes kissing Otabek’s jawline and neck, other hand on his cock and the other on his bottom. “It’s been too fucking long, Beka” he adds.

Otabek’s head falls back with a thud, and he lets out a long, shaky moan. “Technically, we had sex yesterday,” he manages to stutter as Yuri’s hand explores Otabek’s cock, thumb touching the slit and forefinger dancing on the underside of it.

“Skype sex doesn’t count,” Yuri says and takes a step back to be able to properly look at Otabek. Yuri’s hand looks so _pale_  compared to Otabek’s dark, flushed cock.

“It does, Yura,” Otabek argues between pants. Yuri bites his jaw and laughs, because Otabek  _always_  argues  with Yuri during sex. It’s endearing and far sexier than it should be.

“Fine. If it  _does_  count, then why do you look like you’re half a minute away from coming? I thought your stamina was good,” Yuri teases him. “I mean, we  _did_  have sex less than 24 hours ago - that usually makes you last longer.”

Otabek huffs a laugh, hips twitching forward towards Yuri’s fist. His cock is hot and wet in Yuri’s hand.

“Okay, fuck. Skype sex does  _not_  count.”

“Thank you,” Yuri says, satisfied, and with one last kiss to Otabek’s neck, starts to lower himself onto his knees. He doesn’t get far, though, because Otabek stops him by grabbing him by his elbows. Yuri makes a questioning sound, but Otabek simply drags him back up to kiss him.

“I’ve missed you too, you know,” he whispers and snakes his hand inside Yuri’s jeans. “And I just want to keep kissing you, for now.”

Yuri’s heart flutters. “Then kiss me.”

Otabek does. He kisses his way down Yuri’s neck, tongue travelling along his collarbones before coming back up. He huffs moist breaths on Yuri’s skin as his hands expertly open Yuri’s jeans. His hand curls around Yuri’s cock at the same time he shoves his tongue inside Yuri’s mouth, and Yuri _moans_.

“That’s - fuck,” Yuri pants against Otabek’s lips. He’s trying his best to touch Otabek but his concentration is completely gone. Otabek strokes Yuri’s cock in confident, short strokes that make Yuri’s eyes roll and heat start gathering in his lower back. His touch is just on the side of too rough, and Yuri loves it.

Somehow Yuri finds enough self-control to take off Otabek’s hand from him. Otabek opens his mouth to ask what’s Yuri doing, but Yuri manages to silence him when he shoves their hips together, their cocks  _finally_  touching. Yuri lifts his pelvis up, then drags it back down, rubbing himself against Otabek.

“Yur - _ah_!” Otabek sighs and Yuri feels his dick twitch, slapping against his own stomach. The boy grabs Yuri’s ass properly this time, probably leaving bruises Yuri can admire the next day. (And Otabek is going to feel bad about them and he’ll try to kiss them better. So, it’s a double-win for Yuri.)

They’re grinding against each other, desperate and urgent in a way only two people who’ve had to endure a long-distance relationship while still being in the honeymoon phase of their relationship can. For once they don’t have to worry about being too loud, and for once they actually get to be in the same room while orgasming. Hearing Otabek’s cries, feeling his body tremble and shake against Yuri, tasting the sweat in his neck - it’s all too much for Yuri. He wants to  _devour_  Otabek, make him let go like this every minute of every day. He wants to  _fuck_  him and make him fuck Yuri, he wants to taste every bit of him, he wants Otabek to be  _his_  -

“Shit!” Yuri lets out a single, hoarse cry before he comes, making a mess between their stomachs. He’s talking in a string of curses and moans, his orgasm going from his lower back to his toes, from his cock to his head. He’s dizzy and flashes of white are blurring his vision. Otabek keeps kissing him and Yuri tries his best to reciprocate while whining while he feels like his whole brain has leaked out of his cock.

“God, you’re wonderful,” Otabek gasps, bites Yuri’s lower lip, and then he’s coming too. Otabek always hides his face in Yuri’s shoulder when he comes. It’s infuriating because Yuri would love to see his face, but it’s also the single most endearing thing Yuri has  _ever_  witnessed, so he just curls his hands (come-soaked, but they’re going to shower after this, right?) around Otabek, kissing his jaw and blowing into his ear gently while the boy rides out the endorphin high.

Before they both get sticky and cold, Yuri takes a step back. He runs his fingers through his sweaty hair and smiles at Otabek, whose cheeks and the tip of his nose are flushed adorably pink.

“Dinner?” Yuri asks.

“By ‘dinner’ I hope you mean ‘takeaway’ because I  _still_  don’t know how to cook,” Otabek lifts his brow and pulls up his pants. He leaves them undone, though, and Yuri takes a moment to appreciate the sight of his stomach spattered with slick and come, the bulge of his softening cock from between his opened jeans obscene.

Yuri playfully tutted at Otabek. “And you still keep telling me you’re boyfriend material.”

He takes off his shirt and starts walking towards the showers. Otabek’s shower is tiny, but it’s  _perfect_ like that because it doesn’t quite fit two people, and that means that they always have to be close from chest to hip. It’s perfect for slow, post-coital kissing.

“Order us both some kebab, then join me in the shower, Beks,” Yuri calls over his shoulder as he kicks his jeans off while walking towards the bathroom.

He hears Otabek fumble and drop his phone to the floor with colourful curses.


	4. fluff - JJ/Otabek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: "He's not my boyfriend!"

When Otabek sighs for the umpteenth time like a lovesick idiot that he is, Yuri thinks,  _‘that’s it’_. He closes the magazine he’s been reading as forcefully as he can, slapping the pages together to get Otabek’s attention. **  
**

“All right, you dumbass. That’s  _enough_  of the pining. Please, just go text your boyfriend, alright?”

Otabek lifts his head up to glare at Yuri. He’s sprawled on Yuri’s bed like a starfish, hand over his head while Yuri has been reading on the couch like a normal person.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Otabek insists. Yuri has never heard him whine, but the tone he just used comes pretty close.

Yuri rolls his eyes and throws a sofa cushion in the general direction of Otabek.

“Then  _make_  him your boyfriend. That’s what you want, right?” 

It’s been  _infuriating_  seeing Otabek moon over that Canadian idiot. Mostly because Jean-Jacques is a huge douchebag, but also because lovesick Otabek is lethargic and lifeless, only perking up when there’s a message on his phone (and only to sulk ten seconds later when he realises it’s not from JJ). Yuri would spend all his free time dragging Otabek that the object of his affection is the literal dictionary definition of a fuckboy, but he doesn’t have the heart to do it. Yuri has  _never_  seen Otabek act like this towards anyone else. There was that awkward stage where he and Otabek tried out the whole dating thing, but that doesn’t count. They were pretty awful together, Yuri thinks. Awkward and completely on a different wavelength romantically. They are great as friends, though.

Which is why Yuri doesn’t want to sabotage Otabek’s love life, even if he thinks that JJ is no way in _hell_ deserving of Otabek.

The sofa cushion is flung back towards Yuri, but Yuri is used to these kind of attacks so he just ducks his head while making his way towards the kitchen.

“I don’t know!” He hears Otabek’s exasperated voice from the alcove where the bed is. His voice is muffled, so Yuri suspects that Otabek has drowned his face in Yuri’s pillow (again). “Maybe! But he’s - he probably doesn’t even remember who I am!”

Yuri rolls his eyes again as he pours them both a glass of Coke. Not diet coke, but the real stuff. He also balances slices of cold pizza on top of both glasses before returning to the living room. He places the glass and the pizza on the nightstand next to Otabek’s head and returns to the couch, tapping an affirmative answer to Netflix’s ‘ _are you still watching Friends?’_.

“Of course he remembers you, Beks. Just text him, for god’s sakes. You guys talked for hours at the banquet and he barely left your side the whole evening,” Yuri says, mouth full of pizza. He knows Otabek is going to force them to go running tomorrow morning, but before that he’s going to shove as much pizza into himself as he possibly can.

Otabek and JJ talked  _a lot_  during the banquet. Yuri doesn’t know whether Otabek had been thinking about JJ even before that (because he is a secretive asshole and Yuri has to constantly remind him to share his thoughts), but the banquet was the first time they met face to face. The Canadian boy sauntered over to Otabek to congratulate him on his creative short-program that gave him the best personal score of the season. Yuri didn’t hear the whole conversation (because apparently eavesdropping was rude), but he remembers how soft Otabek’s eyes went and how he couldn’t quite hide how nervous he was, standing in front of JJ. His cheeks were a little pink and he played with the collar of his shirt a little too much to seem casual.

Since the banquet, Otabek has flushed deep red whenever Yuri mentions anything about the subject. He spends all his free time looking through JJ’s Instagram and Snapchat, sighing and biting his lip.

“Have you seen his latest Instagram pictures, though?” Otabek asks.

“ _No_.”

“He’s in most of them with some girl. He’s someone else’s boyfriend, Yura!”

Yuri gives Otabek an amused look. “Who, Isabella Yang? They’re not dating.”

“How can you  _know_?”

Yuri is never going to tell Otabek that he’s done some snooping around like friends do, because, well, Otabek would murder him with his bare hands. But Yuri is friends with Mila, and Mila is friends with Sara, and Sara used to train with Isabella together in Italy. (It’s lucky the whole figure skating scene is this small.) Yuri requested Mila to ask around for him and yep - Isabella and JJ used to pair skate together when they were little before Isabella decided to drop skating altogether, JJ continued by himself. They’ve been friends their whole life, but they’re not dating. And in fact, according to Mila, JJ is very much interested in men.

“Because I listen to gossip more than you, Beka,” Yuri says with a shrug of his shoulder. “Just please,  _please_  message him. He was impressed by the fact that you mix your own music to your programs, right? Maybe you could offer to make something for him for next season?” 

Otabek has been scrolling his phone, but he pauses to look at Yuri. He’s frowning, but he’s not instantly screaming  _‘no’_ , so that’s good.

“That’s dumb,” Otabek says slowly.

“Well, you are quite dumb to like him in the first place, but here we are.”

Otabek licks his lips and glances at his phone. “I don’t have his phone number.”

“Just DM him on Instagram”, Yuri suggests. Who the fuck even  _sent_  text messages these days? Oh, that’s right - Otabek did.

“And if I did that, what should I even say?” Otabek asks, defensive but clearly desperate for advice.

“ _‘Hey’_.”

“That’s it?”

Yuri lifts his brows to the boy. “Y-yes? That’s what people say when they start a conversation.”

Otabek flips his overgrown hair from his face. “Are you saying that  _you_ , who’s currently seeing  _three_ different ice hockey players and who’s had more boyfriends than I’ve had  _kisses_  in my entire life, just sends messages that say ‘hey’ when you want to open a conversation?”

Yuri gives the boy a pained look. He knows Otabek is not yet very experienced with dating, but holy fuck, Yuri had no idea he was this clueless. “Yes.”

“And then what?”

“Then they say ‘hi’ back and ask you how you’ve been. You answer them and ask them how they’ve been. They tell about their day, you tell about your day. They compliment your most recent selfie and you compliment theirs and  _boom_ , you’re exchanging dick pics.”

Otabek goes deep red and opens his mouth to protest. Yuri thinks he’s going to say something about Yuri being too gross or explicit, but instead what comes out of his mouth is: “But I don’t  _have_  any pictures of me on my Instagram. There’s nothing  _to_  compliment.”

Yuri smirks and lifts up his own phone, twirling it in his hand. “Babe, this is exactly why I have a whole folder dedicated to candid photos I’ve taken of you.” He pats the place next to him on the sofa. “Come here and pick one with me. After we’ve posted it, we’re going to message JJ.”

Otabek huffs and stomps to Yuri, throws himself into the sofa like this is the worst thing he’s ever had to do.

“Fine! But if this blows up in my face, I’m going to blame you,” he says, but Yuri hears the excitement in his voice. He huffs a laugh, because he remembers how he and JJ been in the bathrooms the same time and how JJ had fussed with his awful haircut for and opened too many buttons of his shirt before returning to talk to Otabek. Yuri is sure a fuck that JJ is thinking about Otabek, too.

“Just thank me at your wedding,” Yuri sing-songs as he begins scrolling through the pictures on his phone.


	5. fluff - Chris/Otabek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: "Hey, babe."

Chris is used to hearing pet names as an instrument of seduction, and he’s used to  _using_  them like that. **  
**

He’s never gotten to the point of relationship where pet names were used as a form of endearment, just because you wanted to express how fond of them you were.

Chris supposes it’s partly his own fault. He’s very lowkey about relationships, preferring to keep things casual. He doesnt want to demand things for himself, always thinking that whatever happens, happens, and there’s no use forcing it.

That’s why he’s never really fought to keep his relationships going. Hasn’t been really sure if he even  _wants_  to. They’ve always ended for one reason or another. Chris is not the scream and shout type, and most of his exes he’s still very much friendly with. That flicker of a flame has just always faded.  

Otabek is different. He’s total boyfriend material, the one who’ll charm your mother and who’ll make you breakfast after making love to you the whole night. He’s quick to make things serious. Otabek has barely ever been out of a relationship, always having people to line up behind his door. He doesn’t do one night stands, whereas random hook-ups are the majority of Chris’ experience.

That is why Chris’ heart, simply put, skips a beat, when one morning he hears Otabek say,

_“Hey, babe.”_

Chris is in the middle of a coffee making process, pouring hot water on top of freshly ground beans (he’s been trying to get Otabek to enjoy proper since he is used to filter coffee) when he hears Otabek’s voice from the living room. He splashes some of the water (not on himself, luckily) and puts the kettle down. He turns around, heart hammering. He thinks that he misheard the man. Or maybe Otabek is talking on the phone, calling his…Well, Chris can’t really think of anyone Otabek would call ‘babe’. At least Chris  _hopes_  there isn’t anyone like that. Chris and Otabek haven’t really talked about their future, but so far it’s going as Chris’ relationships usually go - casual and easy, easy and casual. Chris  _has_  been trying his best to keep Otabek in his grasp, mostly with closing his eyes and wishing really, really intently that Otabek isn’t going to get tired of him.

Chris stands there, frozen, leaning against the kitchen countertop, waiting for their coffees to brew.

He hears footsteps, and Otabek’s head peeks through the door. Otabek’s hair is a crow’s nest - something Chris has a privilege to see almost every morning, nowadays. It’s funny a relatively short hair like his can look that messy and unkempt.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?” Chris asks, trying his best to sound nonchalant and aloof.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Otabek asks, innocently. He walks next to Chris, hips loose and steps unhurried. Chris takes the moment to appreciate how low his boxers hung, revealing the  _v_  of his hipbones. Otabek does that completely on purpose, the show-off.

“No, I did,” Chris hastens to say. Otabek doesn’t need to know about his internal battle. “I was just - making coffee.”

“Mm, nice,” Otabek humms and finds their bugs from the cupboard - the rainbow flag one for Chris, the tacky, awful mug that says “this is what happens when you find a stranger in the Alps” one for Otabek. He pours them both coffee and adds a bit of milk in his own. Chris stands next to him, leaning onto the counter without saying anything. He likes watching Otabek perform even the smallest and the most boring tasks like this. And fold laundry, or flip through the morning paper even though he doesn’t even speak German or French - the languages most Chris’ magazines and newspapers are in.

“Come,” Otabek says when he’s finished, handing Chris his mug. He goes back to the living room and Chris follows him, still feeling wobbly after hearing Otabek using a pet name on him.

Otabek goes back to sit on the desk where his laptop has been for weeks. He points the screen to Chris while taking a sip of his coffee. The sound he makes when the coffee hits his tongue makes Chris’ mouth twitch.

On the screen there’s an ad for an apartment for rent. No, it’s a just a single room. Is Otabek going to find his own place in Geneva? The thought fills Chris with hesitant happiness, but also uncertainty. If Otabek wants to live here, even part-time, then that’s  _awesome_ , but there’s no reason for him to rent a place when he could just stay at Chris’ for free.

Unless, of course, he wants space.

Chris clears his throat. “What am I looking at?”

Otabek gives him a hesitant grin. “Well,” he starts and takes another sip of his coffee, taking his time to put it back on the table - he’s stalling. “I was thinking…”

Chris doesn’t want to rush him, but he can’t stop an impatient “yes?” from falling from his lips.

“Since I’m spending a lot of time here with you -” Otabek continues, and Chris’ heart sinks a little.

“You need your own space?” He fills in, trying not to sound as deflated as he feels. He puts his coffee on the table, keeping his eyes on the screen instead of looking at Otabek.

“Well, for my music,” Otabek finishes.

“Music?”

“Did you fall out of bed last night?” Otabek huffs a warm laugh and pulls Chris into his lap. It’s awkward since Chris is a lot taller than him, but Otabek likes holding Chris, so they’ve learned to navigate. Otabek’s arms are warm and strong around him, and Chris feels blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“With how you mandhandled me, I might as well have,” he quips back.

Otabek kisses his cheek and it’s soft and sweet and  _tender_. “Yes, a small studio where I can work on my music. I’d rather be close to you and right now, all of my equipment is in Almaty. Unnecessary travelling, you see.”

Chris’ back straightens and he leans back enough to look at Otabek properly. “You mean, you’d… Rent a studio for work and stay here with me?” He knows his voice rose up at the end of the sentence, hopeful and fragile.

“I can always look for an apartment here, too, if you want”, Otabek is quick to say. “I don’t mean to intrude and I want to give you space if you -”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence because Chris kisses him, hard, with hands covering his unshaved cheeks.

“Don’t,” Chris whispers against his lips, overwhelmed. “Stay here with me.”

Otabek grins against his lips and slides his hands under Chris’ t-shirt. “Alright.”


End file.
